The Monsters Inside
by Miss Swaggins
Summary: A dangerous ideology threatens to tear not only the league, but all of Valoran apart. With chaos reigning, and war threatening to once again take the forefront, Luxanna Crownguard finds herself questioning her duty to her home, Demacia, and her duty to what she believes is right. This story features many characters from all walks of the league and will likely be rather long.
1. Prologue

Hello and welcome to my first LoL fanfiction. I should first mention that all names and places with League of Legends belong to Riot and not myself. This story is an original and is currently rated T for non-descriptive violence and certain sexual allusions. If you enjoy this, please let me know by reviewing or favouriting the story! Along the same lines, if you don't like it, review and tell me what I ought to change to improve things.

The Prologue is going to be a little confusing right now, but it will eventually make total sense in later chapters when all of the characters are revealed. Thank-you for taking the time to read this!

* * *

The Blind Wheel had seen characters of all sorts since it began its life as a tavern in the lower end of Demacia. The poor and ostracized of the city hardly had enough money to get by, much less to uphold the city's ideals. Thus was born the Blind Wheel, as well as a handful of inns and even less savory establishments in a corner of which most of the higher city never spoke. Law seldom bothered to train its all-seeing eye on these darkened corners, for punishment to the impoverished would seem severely unjust: a concept highly frowned upon. This left the only blemish upon Demacia's shining reputation to fester under the noses of retribution so long as they kept to themselves.

Hodin, the owner and bartender of the Wheel had seen the place come to life at the hands of his father. Though neither had ever been supporters of immorality, the lack of funds in their family had forced them into business in the only neighborhood they could afford. Now in his later years, with only a daughter to succeed him, the man had attempted to raise the standards. Brawls, prostitution and theft were condemned to the best of his abilities. On more than one occasion he'd attempted to reach out to the authorities, though they seldom agreed to intervene.

More than anything, he hated days where in the corner, a woman, her face obscured by her cloak, would sit quietly drinking.

"I've told you before, get out." He grumbled, bringing her an ale and a sandwich. "You're not welcome here."

"I have business in this area, Hodin. You would be best to let me sort it." Her voice held a carefully weighted warning that he daren't argue. She was not necessarily to be considered a regular, however her particular line of work found her frequently in these parts. Hodin, who lived in a loft overhead seldom saw her about during the day, though refused to rule out the possibility that she preferred to live unseen in the lower city.

He shook his greying head as he left her. "Don't cause any trouble. I will get the law involved if I have to."

As Hodin retreated behind his counter, polishing a bottle that had clearly seen better days, the woman quietly tucked into her sandwich. She had pushed her brew aside, for she didn't subscribe to the notion of an alcoholic beverage. Had she not loathed every other place in the lower city, she would have vacated The Blind Wheel years ago. Hodin, however, was not a bad man, and she felt almost bad for any trouble she caused in his pub. It was his character that earned him her business. She found him tolerable: a quality few others in the area possessed. Unfortunately, his tavern was a breeding ground for the unsavory, and therefore, she made it her business to supervise.

She sat hunched, watchfully eyeing the door and paying no attention to the bartender who willed her away. Clearly, she was waiting for someone. This ailed the proprietor more than all else. Most of her acquaintances were of unprincipled character: men and women he hoped to someday expunge from his bar. He watched as she drummed her fingers impatiently on the table and picked at her sandwich, refusing to meet the eye of those around her.

Outside, a man and a woman spoke in hushed tones. "This looks most like home." The man told his companion, eyeing up and down the streets.

"The true heart of the shining city." She replied.

"Are we safe here?" he gestured towards the tavern, its hanging side weathered, worn and faded with time. It's dim lighting and dusty windows were reminiscent of somewhere entirely non-Demacian, and the pair clearly appreciated this.

Wordlessly, the woman pulled open the door, pleased that the tingling of the bell at the door had disturbed no one but a tired waitress whose sleep laden eyes betrayed her welcoming smile. Seating them in a corner, she offered them menus and promptly left. As the only one other than the bartender, the couple were treated to an intimate business, seldom disrupted by anyone.

Hodin had noticed the strangers before the door had even shut. He'd also noticed the way the cloaked woman had shifted her gaze to them as soon as they had seated.

"Clara," he called over the waitress, "bring the madam her bill. She's overstayed her welcome." He sent her over to the table where a half eaten sandwich and untouched brew came second to the observation of the equally secretive strangers. Though the cloaked woman accepted her bill, she never looked at the young server bringing it to her, and rather offered Hodin a pointed glare. Despite having been unceremoniously asked to leave twice now, she refused to leave her post: silently daring the bartender to try and use force.

His aging body would do little good against the agility and strength associated with the young, but his hopes were that diplomacy would encourage her good behavior. "I can't make you leave, but know this," he warned in a whisper, "If you cause me any trouble, the constabulary will be down here before you can slink back into the shadows. Got it?" She glared at him. "There's a price on your head, you know." With his words hanging in the air, he retreated to his post, pouring another beer for a tired looking gentleman at the bar. Nearly an hour passed before his attention was once again drawn to the strangers and the cloaked woman. The bar was emptying, and the lack of a crowd had off put the two new arrivals who paid and promptly left. The door hadn't swung shut when the woman dropped her coins onto the table, and followed them out quickly.

The couple had rounded the corner to cut down an alley to the inn they had chosen to stay at, when they found their path blocked.

"Move it, lady." The man grumbled, attempting to push her aside and walk past her. His proximity had left him vulnerable and with the swiftness of a fox, the cloaked woman plunged a dagger deep into his chest.

Hodin winced at the scream that shortly followed the departure and rested a hand on Clara's shoulder. He counted to twenty quietly before leaving the young girl in charge to investigate the damage. Knowing that the voice had come from the east, he immediately searched the alleyway to the right of the tavern. There lay two bodies: the two strangers. An arrow skewered the woman, and the man lay in a pool of blood emanating from a stab wound. There was no doubt of their assassin. Crouching down to examine them closer, he took note of an insignia on the man's shirt. Pushing aside his blood-drenched cloak, Hodin felt a wave of nausea overcome him. On the man's shirt was the Noxian crest.

The consequences of this murder could rock both cities to the core and threaten the peace the league had finally given them


	2. The Valor of Demacia

"Victory for our allies, defeat for our enemies, and justice for all." Lux recited under her breath, staring blankly down her empty lane. A trained smile adorned her face, though her stomach churned as though she might be sick at the base of her turret. No matter how many times she was summoned to the fields of justice, she never quite felt comfortable there. Hanging wearily by her turret, she scanned the surrounding area, knowing that an enemy could be hiding in the fog of war just beyond the reaches of her vision.

With no attempt to hide herself, a tall, slim redheaded woman strode down the middle of the lane, her hips swaying with the seductive power of confidence. "Hiding beneath your turret, Demacian?" she clucked reprehensively, twirling one sword nonchalantly.

"There's no use in one on one combat now. Plus, I don't care to be surprised by your jungler."

The other girl stared down the small blonde. "C'mon, live a little." Pausing emphatically, her eyes darkened. "While you can." Lux shuddered at the cold nature of the taunt. Regardless of how many champions she met on the fields of justice, she could never surpass their willingness to kill. Even she had found that bloodshed fazed her far less when the permanency of death was mocked by the magic of the League.

Overhead, the booming voice sounded, announcing that first wave of minions was on its way.

"Still waiting for back up?" The Noxian mocked, as she paced back and forth in front of the blonde. Though Lux hated to admit it, getting too close to the other girl would be disastrous; she wasn't that quick, and her escape was weak. Katarina's blades would be her end if she let them.

Taking a shaky step forward, she threw out a spell of lucent singularity that the other girl would have avoided were Lux slower. "I'm fine here, thanks." She answered defiantly and with a false perkiness. Though outwardly she would portray an air of confident optimism, she didn't dare get close enough to utilize her passive, lest the physically stronger of the two girls decide to show off.

"_Don't get too close,"_ the summoner insider her head warned. She wanted to tell him to piss off and that she knew what she was doing, but at the end of the day, he was in charge: not she.

Instead she replied simply: "_Great decision,"_ before turning back to the enemy facing her. Behind Katarina, a line of enemy minions approached. The battle was about to begin.

The redheaded assassin swiftly sliced the life from one minion, and Lux threw out spell after spell, occasionally landing one on the other champion, but never daring to get close enough to do severe damage.

"First blood." The voice boomed again, making Lux jump a little.

"_Garen, in the top lane_." Her summoner commented to her. Though they had been close as children, the siblings hardly spoke anymore. The light mage twirled her baton, throwing out another spell that hit Katarina and killed a couple of minions. No time to think on the deaths of anything, Lux bound the other champion with light before using one of her basic spells to do the most damage. Admittedly, she would have preferred to stay far out of her enemy's range, but her summoner insisted that she be aggressive, and his will was hers. Retreating from the imprisoned Noxian, she waited to recover from casting before reengaging. Her hands were shaking, and her palms were damp with perspiration, perpetually loosening her grip on her staff and making the regaining of it very difficult. Were they fighting closer to an allied turret, the young mage might have maintained her composure a little better, but in the neutral space, with few wards placed and visibility low, she knew that she walked a dangerous line. Anything, specifically the Noxian jungler, could be hiding in those bushes.

No longer a prisoner to Lux' prismatic barrier, Katarina dashed towards her opponent's retreating figure and struck the Demacian with a throw of her sword. The blonde yelped as she felt the blade slice her and lower her health. The safety of her tower close, she ran as fast as she could, praying that she would get there and have a moment to recover before having to reengage. Having witnessed her opponent fight before, however, Katarina teleported in front of the mage, whirling her daggers efficiently. Lux felt her adversary cut into her, each wound stinging more than the next. She desperately needed to get back to safety to regain her breath and recover, but the redheaded assassin blocked the blocked the path. Panicked, Lux knew that her health was running low, and that it would only take a few more hits before death. Options dwindling, she threw out her newly renewed barrier and flashed away.

Her summoner voiced his approval, though was quietly upset that they'd lost the fight. And he was not alone in this. Though she had narrowly survived, she couldn't help but feel that death would have been better if she had at least succeeded in doing some damage. The Noxian would see her as nothing more than an easy target if she couldn't defend herself adequately. On the platform healing up, her summoner encouraged her to check the shop.

"_You need a chalice,"_ his voice echoed in her head, dissuading her from the blasting wand she had been examining. She didn't want armor or mana: she wanted damage. "_Lux. Get the chalice. It's a better pick at this point in the game."_ His voice, frustrated by her defiance rang again. Though she longed for the ability power she could be granted, she knew the consequences of noncompliance, and she begrudgingly took down a chalice of harmony, unceremoniously handing her gold to the shopkeeper.

In lane, she felt dangerously close to losing her turret as Katarina aggressively pushed her backwards. Despite throwing out ability after ability, she was constantly countered by her opponent's capacity to close the distance between them.

"Ready to give up yet?" the Noxian taunted, throwing a blade which struck Lux. Fuming, she threw out her luminescent singularity, only for Katarina to teleport out of it's range and to her enemy. Sharp silver was flashing and Lux hardly knew what was going on before everything went dark.

"What just happened?" her eyes grew wide and her stomach dropped as she recognized her predicament.

"_You died."_ Her summoner's voice sounded strained and frustrated with the attack damage being dealt to them and their lack of counter strike. Lux felt it worst of all. She was embarrassed and sore from the constant assailing. Respawning on the summoning platform, she found none other than her brother bartering in the shop. Her cheeks flushed and she attempted to sneak away before he saw her, but her summoner insisted she pick up another item before trying to face the challenge in lane again.

"You died." Garen sounded even more disappointed than her summoner. "Lux, you know how important this game is."

She avoided his glare ashamedly, "It was one death. I'll make up for it." She edged around him to the wand she had previously had an eye on.

"Ensure you do." Without a word of encouragement, he left her alone. Lux felt off put by her brother's words. Joining the league had brought them marginally closer, but Garen remained closed to her and their relationship never managed to come to fruition. They had been estranged since their military careers had taken them different directions, and their reunion in the league was tense at best.

"_Get over it, Lux. We have to take back our lane."_ Again, her summoner was there, urging her on.

She nodded, quietly holding back tears. "Right, excellent decision." With a renewed sense of purpose, and sadness tuned to anger, she made her way out. Katarina's smug smile met her. Shaking herself, the young mage forced herself to focus. Garen's words could only make her stronger. She would prove to her brother that she was a true Demacian champion, and that she could hold her own.

"I was just warming up," she spoke with a confidence and optimism that she most certainly didn't feel.

Katarina eyed her evenly: "Bring it."

The battle began anew: each girl throwing abilities expertly taking minions and dealing damage to the other as they went. Neither willing to leave lane to go recall and regain health, they stood behind their minions, close to death. The summoner told her to stay put and wait for her health to regenerate, but anger and determination made her unreasonable and she did something incredibly stupid. Running forward and carefully dodging the minions, she enclosed Katarina in her barrier, knowing that a simple snare wouldn't save her from her opponent's blades, she flashed to safety. "Demacia!" Light fired through the Noxian, and Lux watched the other girl's body fall to the ground.

"_You wonderful, wonderful idiot."_ She could practically hear her summoner shaking his head in disbelief and she laughed joyously despite panting in exhaustion. Her embarrassment at having died had faded, and with the two girls on even footing, she was ready to win the game.

"Don't get too cocky, Demacian." A growling voice made the young mage jump. "You haven't faced me, yet."

A behemoth of a man stepped into lane with her. His lined face and greying hair betrayed age, but his cocky, smooth gait and muscular physique spoke of youth. If Katarina had been frightening, the Noxian jungler was doubly so. Brothers Darius and Draven were as dangerous as they were potent; each brother's strength was only equaled by his cruelty. Facing the elder of the two, Lux felt her breath hitch in fear and she silently pleaded with the Gods to save her. Though she too was powerful in her own right, her lithe physique and small stature couldn't hold a candle to her enemy. Terror consumed her: a terror she could neither swallow nor express. It left her speechless and immobile, unblinkingly watching him. No amount of training or battle could dispel the stories she knew of his barbarity. His sadistic streak was of legend, and she feared that she had become his most recent conquest.

"You're right to be afraid." He was smug. Lux's fear gave him the upper hand, and as far as he was concerned, he had already won.

For the first time since he had appeared, she tore her eyes from the Noxian insignia on his armor. She took two concentrated breaths before opening her eyes and reassuming the falsely confident air she exuded. "I've met worse than you." Mentally, she reprimanded herself for losing her composure and showing him weakness. Though fear is natural, she needn't express it. Training for years should have eliminated such an animalistic response. The flight and freeze mechanism ought to be controlled in a champion: far favored by their ability to fight in high-stress situations.

The Noxian raised a suggestive eyebrow; mocking the idea that anyone in all of Runeterra might even rival him in ferocity. Her heartbeat racing, and adrenaline pumping, she eyed him narrowly and through out a spell, striking him and doing less damage than she would have liked to. He laughed, taunting her and charging forward. Though every particle of her being commanded her to retreat, she knew that she was hardly quick enough to escape him. His blade flashed before her, and his hulking body shook the ground as he barreled toward her. She screamed something incomprehensible, trapping him in her barrier a matter of seconds before he would have delivered a devastating blow. Her torn tunic was stained red where his weapon had caught her, but she had little time to ponder it as the spell grew weaker and Darius strained against his bonds. She backpedalled a safe distance from the man before throwing another spell at him, praying she could do enough damage to ward him off.

Darius however was hardly deterred by a little blonde girl with rainbow magic. He was a man of hard facts and even harder character. Over the course of his life, he had backed down from a challenge maybe once, and it would have been only for the sake of his brother. Though her magic seared his skin and burned his eyes, he knew that all he needed were a handful of strikes against her to make the delicate mage fall at his feet.

Neither Lux nor Darius was an inexperience fighter, and each worked their hardest to play to their strengths. When he could, Darius would dodge Lux's spells, and to the best of her abilities, the latter kept her distance from the dangerous strength her opponent offered. It was Lux's snare wearing out that trapped her. A few hits on Darius had made her cocky, and she had gotten in too close, when he had broken from the prismatic barrier. She turned to run only to find a wave of minions obscuring her path. Mindlessly, they charged forwards, unaware of the fact that their movement was costing a champion her life.

The axe struck her thrice, blinding her with pain. In her ears, his sadistic laughter rang, echoing against her skull. Her strength fading quickly, she tried her hardest to throw discouraging spells at him. As each spell hit and bounced off of him, his health diminished, yet he was ready for the kill. Like a hound with a scent he stuck to her, striking her and beating her till she could hardly breathe and was begging for death. Bloodied and on her last breath, she fired a final shot. A thick beam of light fired down the lane.

"An enemy has been slain." Lux's eyes flashed open as the voice boomed. Cautiously, she moved her fingers, unsure of how she was still alive.

"Luxanna." In the light, she could hardly make out his face, but the voice, raw and proud was so familiar to her that she would be a fool to mistake it.

"Jarvan," her voice, shaky and weak from battle came out as scarcely more than a whisper. His strong hands reached down and lifted her with a surprising gentle touch, placing her on her feet and revering her as though she were a China doll.

"You can't take on Darius alone, Lux. You nearly died," his scolding betrayed his worry: for the pair had an incredibly unique relationship. Despite having grown up under the guise of pseudo-siblings, since Luxanna's birth, they had been betrothed, due to unite two of the noble houses of Demacia. Fondness, however, characterized their engagement rather than love. The crown prince felt a responsibility towards the well being of his future bride, and though Lux had misgivings about the concept of an arranged marriage, she held her fiancé in high esteem.

"He came out of nowhere," she rolled her eyes defiantly through her pain, "Anyway, I almost had him and-"

"Recall, Lux." Jarvan shook his head, "You would have died if I hadn't shown up. Your health is pathetic right now."

She huffed, disapproving of taking orders from anyone. Regardless of her pride, the welts and bruises stung, and she could still feel herself getting weaker by the second. Without a word to him, she turned around. At the very least, she preserved her feminine ability to convey anger wordlessly. Just as she began to feel herself lighten and head towards the summoner platform, she was interrupted.

"Lux," Jarvan paused, scratching the back of his head uncomfortably. "You fought really well. One hit and Darius was dead."

The compliment delivered, she gave him a radiant smile and proceeded to go back to recovery. Enchanted with powerful healing magic placed by the most senior summoners, the platform brought Lux to full health from the brink of death. Her tattered clothing and dented armor repaired itself pristinely, and she felt herself regaining strength rapidly.

The game progressed with Demacia holding a slim lead over their opponents. The team fight, however, was where they truly won or lost. To her right stood her brother, bulked by his armor, his might did not go ignored by any on the field. To her left stood Shauna Vayne, a childhood friend turned mercenary whose mystique was rivaled only by her lethality. Sona, the mute music mage and Jarvan stood proud and strong, united, the team fought for Demacia. They, however, were rivaled by equally strong foes from the eastern city-state. Darius and Draven who needed no introduction stood side by a side: a force to contend with. Katarina, the sinister blade had proven her potency and didn't fear the opportunity to do so again. Leblanc, though supposedly their support, dealt damage on her own, and was as ruthless as she was beautiful. Finally, there was Swain who could only be described as a sociopath. Never in his life had he winced at a kill: permanent or not. His fighting was dangerous both magically and physically, leaving him as possibly the most revered member of the team. Even the other four Noxians seemed to leave him space, as if afraid to encroach upon him.

Battles between Noxus and Demacia had always been epic. Whether two thousand men or ten, tensions were high and the stakes were raised when it was a battle between the two cities. For Jarvan and Swain to face one another was incredibly difficult, for each represented the head of their homeland in their own right. Katarina and Garen felt the same tug of rivalry as two important opposing military figures. Despite the political nature of the game, personal enemies antagonized one another, targeting their opponents mercilessly. Though Lux had been to Noxus too few times to gather any lasting enemies, her presence on the battlefield had struck Darius who seemed to feel that he was owed a kill.

"Luxanna Crownguard is mine!" He hollered to his teammates in the midst of a fight, earning a laugh from his deranged brother.

From behind her teammates, she heard his quip and shuddered, remembering the axe coming down on her body over and over again. Sona, who stood beside her, laid a comforting hand on the young mage's shoulder. Though mute, the musician's kindness spoke something beyond the power of words. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Lux nodded, turning back to the chaos of the battle before her.

Swain and Jarvan were locked in combat, neither seeming to gain any substantial ground on the other. Katarina and Garen faced off. Lux couldn't help but giggle at how large and inelegant her brother's footwork became when compared to Katarina whose fighting was as intricate as a dance. Vayne, Sona and Lux were therefore left with Darius, Draven and Leblanc who eyed them up like a meal. None of the women were particularly large, and faced with the Noxian brothers they seemed even more substantially dwarfed. Size had never been an obstacle for three women whose strength lay in their range. Ability after ability, Leblanc survived best for she led with her head, not her axe. Both Darius and Draven, driven by the kill found themselves sorely disappointed by Lux and Sona's combined stunning, snaring, and protecting.

Drenched in sweat and blood, the Demacians emerged proud of the victory. Lux's breathing was ragged, for in the team fight, she had taken more lives than she was proud to admit.

"We did it." He knees buckled as she pulled herself to her feet. Vayne placed a calming hand on her shoulder, watching the blonde slowly regain her composure.

Garen awkwardly bumbled towards his sister, his head bowed in combined unease and respect. "You fought well, Luxanna. Mother and father-" his breath hitched in his throat mentioning their parents, "… would be proud. They would be proud to see you like this." Their estrangement had taken its toll on both brother and sister, and neither had spent any considerable time in conversation since their youth. A positive approach was a sizable change of pace, one, which every teammate noted. Jarvan in particular unsubtly watched the exchange hopefully. As children, the three nobles had played together. The two elder boys often charged with babysitting a rambunctious Luxanna. Though it had been over a decade since more carefree days, hope for a relationship between the siblings was yet to be decimated.

"I thought we all fought well." Little else came to the mage besides an exuberant, perky, generalized compliment. She wished she were clever or gifted enough to accept her brother. Neither were skilled communicators, and thus, the rift between them never closed.

Whether they had wanted to say anymore mattered not when the Noxians made their way into the Demacian pre-game chamber. Each had perfected his or her own scowl, and they wore it with a precision meant to intimidate. Instinctively, Garen positioned himself in front of his smaller sister, ready to defend her should Darius idiotically think his might held a flame to that of a Crownguard. Jarvan bristled at the intrusion. A battle already fought was not something in which he planned to reengage himself.

"Look at how lucky you got today," Draven drawled out, adjusting his axe over his shoulder.

"We won legitimately. If you have a quarrel, take it up with the League." Jarvan's voice betrayed only slight irritation.

"No quarrel, your majesty," Swain stepped out from behind his teammates, shrouding the room with an aura of fear. The mockery in his voice served only to antagonize his enemy with false formality. "We mean simply to congratulate you."

Easing toward the Noxians with his hand on the hilt of his sword, Jarvan placed a hand across his friend's chest to prevent a brawl. Diplomatically, he bowed his head, accepting the compliment, falsified as it was. "You too fought valiantly." His tone was curt, suggesting the end of the conversation.

The easterners, however, blocked the door. Darius stepped forwards, pushing past an unsuspecting Garen to face Lux. "Demacia's little princess was lucky today," he glowered at her. "I don't suspect you'd have survived without your boyfriend over there."

Lux flushed, nearly ready to kill his unsuspecting character on the spot, but Garen stepped in. "Leave my sister alone, Darius." His voice was low and carried a warning.

"Or what? You'll spin?" Darius neared himself to Garen, challenging him to retaliate.

Though Garen's mouth opened to retaliate, Lux stepped in: "Maybe it's you who ought to be afraid, Darius." She felt a buzzing in her head similar to the rush of being on the battlefield. Her confidence, pulled from Gods know where, surged forward. "I grow stronger every game. Perhaps the next time we meet you'll be more than a bit singed." She indicated a burn on his uniform where one of her spells had contacted. Turning on her foot, she retreated to Sona who stood as the onlooker. Not a word was spoken as she walked, both her teammates and enemies dumbfounded by her words. Her hands trembled violently, but she refused to show the reemergence of her cowardice.

Lilia Crownguard had always held her ground regardless of whether her self-confidence was founded or not. By believing she was the best, she had become the best and the most intimidating, for she was nearly impossible to fear. Even the might of Demacia bowed before her anger and marveled at her strength. Minute as her daughter she had no great muscles to boast, only skill, speed and an unparalleled lethality. Luxanna had never measured up to her mother. Like the rest of the Crownguards, Lilia was a swordsman: Lux being the sole mage in the household. Throughout her life she had always wished to have the inner strength her mother exuded. She, however, found her words always came off as unfounded and pathetic. For the first time in her history as a soldier, the young girl had channeled that strength on her own, and though she was terrified, she felt stronger than ever before.

Draven, of course, was the first to break the silence. "Is that so? Little girl, Noxians have nothing to fear from you." His smile dared her to speak back, and had she been looking at him she might have replied with something far less admirable, but she resolutely stared at the back wall, refusing to engage.

"Enough." Jarvan stood to his full height. "We have fought enough for today. You will leave. Now." His tone dared anyone to contradict him. Swain, though a cruel man, was equally smart. He turned silently to leave, accompanied by Leblanc who clearly couldn't have cared less about the Demacian team. The tense encounter seemed to be clearing when Draven stuck out a foot to send the night hunter tumbling to the floor. It took her roughly half a second to spring up and aim her loaded crossbow at her assailant's throat.

"So help me, Draven, you're done." Her eyes narrowed behind ruby tinted glasses, her finger easily ready to put pressure on the trigger.

Vayne's impulsively vindictive nature well known to her fellows, Garen separated the pair, and Lux drew her friend's eyes away from the man.

"Now." Jarvan's face entertained no more foolishness, and even Draven knew better than to get involved.

"He's not worth it, Shauna. He's not worth it." Lux spoke soothingly to her friend who seemed to absorb none of it. Rather, Vayne stared off towards where the Noxians had retreated with a steely resolve.

"The league will be rid of that scum. Just you wait."

* * *

Hello all,

This is first chapter chapter of my story. I'm not particularly gifted at writing fight scenes, so I'd love to hear what you thought of this.

Reviews make flowers grow

3


End file.
